Some Friends Aren't Friends
by X3
Summary: The Love Letters Series, Part 1: Friendship’s Sacrifice, Part 2: One of Those Dreams. Part 3 is where a plot actually develops. Captured by the anti-mutant Friends of Humanity, John writes to Rogue to save his sanity.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Some Friends Aren't Friends 

By: X

X0832001@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am getting no money, I am no threat, please don't sue me.

Summary:  The Love Letters Series, Part 1: Friendship's Sacrifice, Part 2: One of Those Dreams.  Part 3 is where a plot actually develops, and John actually gets to be involved in the action of the story.  Captured by the anti-mutant Friends of Humanity, John writes to Marie so he can die with his sanity.  

A/N:  I used the challenge "St. John Allerdyce- Ecstatic- Pencil" this time.  The random set once again generated by . 

John Allerdyce walked along the street, carrying his grocery bag.  Mutant terrorists or not the Brotherhood still needed milk, eggs and bread.  The brown paper bag balanced against his hip John flicked his lighter on and flipped it shut in his usual manner.  Floosh…click, Floosh…click, Floosh …click.  

"Dirty Mutie" was a snarled comment behind him.  Some kid, about John's own age had a teenage girl with green hair and a spiked collar trapped between his arms and the wall of a house.  Tears streamed down her face.  Her eyes caught his, pleading with him to help her.  John was not heartless; he couldn't let this go on.  He put down his bag and made big strides across the lawn.

"I'm not a mutant. It's hair dye." whimpered the girl.  "Not a mutant" The boy only smiled coldly.  He wasn't going to stop, it didn't matter if it was because he didn't believe her or if he did but didn't care.

"You want a mutant?  You got one" Pyro pushed the boy against the ribs knocking him off the girl.  The kid looked up at his attacker and found him holding a large ball of fire, the flame danced around his fingers, not harming him in the slightest.  He raised the fire, ready to throw it at the delinquent.  The girl screamed and bolted.  The hoodlum took off in the other direction.  

John smiled a little to himself and clapped his hands to put out the fire.  Then he calmly went to retrieve his groceries.  He continued on his way to the latest hideout.  Passing a house on a corner that sported a sign about something he heard the same jerk he had earlier, "There's the mutie!"  John rolled his eyes and turned in the direction of the voice.  There were four guys, the one from earlier the youngest.  Without saying anything they all charged at John.  Dropping the groceries Pyro pulled out the lighter and sent out a wave of fie, driving three of them back.  But the fourth ducked, rolled forward and came up directly in front of the mutant.  "F***ing freak" he tried to wrestle the lighter away. Pyro kicked up and knocked the thug back.  Then he let loose more fire.  It sent that attacker back but two of the others made their way up.  Pyro saw them approaching, noted the young hoodlum from earlier trying to hide behind a nearby tree.  The mutant whirled around and threw an arm up to block the man who'd tried to stab him in the back.  The knife cut cleanly into the flesh of his forearm and made him take a step back.  The approaching two had reached him and he had to twist hard and conjure up fire fast to send them back yet again.  Blood flowing freely Pyro's vision darkened around the edges.  Fighting was getting hard.  Then he felt the worst thing, his lighter being ripped away.  He blinked and focused to see the young guy with his lighter.  Pryo growled and felt the attackers clamping around his arms.

"You are messing with the Friends of Humanity, Mutie.  You don't stand a chance."

Pyro growled and struggled as hard as he could.  "Let go of me!"  He could see where they were leading him as they made their way through the house's basement.  There was a corner tiled with a tub atop it.  Pyro hated the idea of drowning more than any other method of death.  He struggled even more.

"Shut up mutie" was the response harsh in John's ear before he felt the pain of having the back of his knees kicked and the tiled floor rush up to meet him.  Then he felt something worse, the edge of the big tub hitting him in the chest and sliding forward.  The next thing he was aware of was being under the cold water.  He bucked as hard as he could, struggling with all he had against the three men who held him.  His lungs burned, his eyes burned, his head was getting heavy.  

Then the pressure let up and his head broke free of the water.  He greedily gulped for air until they pushed him back down.  He pulled up as hard as he could but it was useless.  They let him fill his lungs again and re-dunked the young mutant.  This continued until the struggling lessened and it was obvious they'd drowned a lot of the fight out of the kid.  Incoherent, stumbling, and breathing heavily they easily slammed him against the white wall next to the tub.  One of the Friends appeared with a camera and snapped a couple of pictures of the pathetic wretch they'd reduced the mutant to.  They'd add this to their "guest" book.  A black book used to bolster moral of the small minded and intolerant FoH by showcasing how many and how badly the group had stuck it to the muties.  

Once he'd been defeated and photographed there really was no more use for the wet, bleeding, shaking thing.  They pulled him roughly from the wall and into one of their containment chambers.  The chambers were the modern equivalent of a dungeon.  The mutie could rot down there and no one would even realize it.  

He lay on the cold floor, thinking.  They'd gotten him.  It made him so mad, stupid humans!  Breathing had become easy again; the stunning effects of nearly drowning had passed.  But, his arm still throbbed.  John sat up and tried to examine the wound in the dim light.  It was still bleeding.  He knew was going to have to stop the bleeding or bleed to death.  Not quite prepared for that slow fatalistic death he committed to cauterizing the wound on his forearm. It was going to be a nasty scar, but hey, chicks dig scars.  He'd been striped of his jacket but still had the rest of his clothes.  In his boot was a spare lighter, a cheap blue Bic that would serve his purposes.  He'd need metal.  Luckily, living with Magneto had taught him that metal was everywhere.  The room was bare stone, nothing there.  He used his good hand to dig through his pockets and came up with a multiply folded Chinese food menu, his wallet, and a ticket stub.  He looked at what he had in his hands, no metal.  Discouraged he noticed his watch.  Dropping the other items he unbuckled the watch and turned it over.  It was just a cheap-o Timex thing, tiny engraving under the claim to be water resistant to 50 meters and the mention of www.timex.com said, "stainless steel back".

Heating the metal until it was red-hot he pressed it to the leaking wound. It would probably never tell time again.  Well, it didn't look like he was in a position to be making future plans anyway.   His screams echoed off the walls and it took every ounce of will power to finish the job, burning the skin closed along the entire jagged cut, before collapsing into the dark bliss.  

            Mark opened the cell door a crack and peered inside.  That dirty mutant who'd shown up the previous afternoon was lying motionless on the floor.  It was about his own age and had put on quite a show before they'd taken him down. It was a dangerous animal; he couldn't believe those government bleeding hearts didn't see that.  Luckily he did.  Luckily he also had found this group.  In the Friends of Humanity he could meet with others and find ways to silence the mutant threat.  Mark turned back to his friend, Regis, and nodded.

Regis hoisted the mutant to his feet and Mark slapped him across the face.  It moaned a little but made no attempt at standing or defending itself.  

"Wake up Mutie" the 'Mutie' still didn't come to.  Regis pressed smelling salts into his friend's hand.  Mark wafted them under the mutant nose, causing an intense shudder through their victim.  That display of life was all Mark needed.  He slammed his fist into the mutant's face as hard as he could.  It made Regis stumble back.  Mark smiled to himself.  A bruise was already forming and his ring had caught the lip making it leak blood down the firebug's chin.  Mark looked at that crimson dribble and used his thumb to wipe it off.  

"God, I love to see you bleed Mutie."  Regis shifted John's weight so Mark could line up another shot.  The mutant was boneless; the shift had flopped his head forward but made no effort to lift it.  

"Wake up damn you!" cursed Regis, giving John another jostle.  Mark took a fistful of dark hair and twisted his enemy's face towards him.  He brought a knee up into the mutant's stomach, then chest, then face.  The brutality was rewarded by a moan slipping past the mutant's lips.  Regis smiled.  "He's got a little life left in him."

Pain filled brown eyes drifted open.  He was still alive and he had never been in such pain.  He'd had the stuffing knocked out of him before.  Before Xavier's he'd been a homeless runaway.  He'd been young, and alone.  This dangerous combination ensured he usually wound up with the short end of the stick and in the dirtiest, roughest places.  But previous beatings weren't like this; there were whole areas of his body that were just numb with pain.  He couldn't see straight, everything was blurry and dark.  All he wanted to do was curl up and sleep, even though he was pretty sure he'd never wake up.  John wanted to live, he really did.  But it just didn't seem like that was in the cards.

Regis dropped him roughly onto the ground.  The Friends of Humanity kicked the still form, it didn't try to defend itself, didn't try to protect itself.  They jabbed their boots into the tense body of their victim until they were satisfied with the amount of blood on the floor and the mutant's pale skin was appropriately purple and black.

"Damn Mutie that showed him."

"Yeah" Mark laughed.  "He knows who's in charge around here now.  The humans!"

He didn't know how long he slept, hours or days.  Since it didn't really matter he didn't waste time wondering. Eventually Magneto might notice that he hadn't seen young Pyro around in a while and start to look for him.  It was an idea but John didn't have much hope for rescue.  His head hurt, his arm throbbed painfully, and he was thirsty.  John listened to the silence around him and groaned.  He hated it when things were too quiet.  John theorized that at least 3 hours passed as he lay on the floor, looking at the ceiling and listening.  He hated the silence. He strained to hear even the slightest sound. But the walls were thick and there wasn't so much as a scurrying rat. Eventually his ears picked up on footsteps.  Someone was coming!

            He thought about getting up and made an attempt to do so.  He got to his feet but his center of gravity did a complete shift and he found himself on the floor again.  He couldn't stop the moan that slipped past his lips.  He hated how weak they'd make him.  He refused to let them see him lying, unable to move, because of their hands.  John carefully rolled onto his front.  From there it was a slow push to his knees a deliberate crawl to the wall outcropping by the door.  He pulled himself to his feet just as the door opened.

  When the guard, an ape-like man that smelled like he'd slept in a bar ashtray, brought in his little bowl of cold broth John immediately noticed the glorious yellow tool in the pocket of his shirt.  It shone like a beacon to the distraction starved young man.  He needed that pencil.  Reacting immediately with a "plan" Pyro punched the man in the face.  The man punched him back.  He watched the pencil fall and roll into the corner.  The Friend of Humanity continued to pummel Pyro a little longer, then left, leaving the precious writing implement behind.  There never was someone so ecstatic to get a dull, chewed on, yellow pencil in his hand.

When John got his head together again he sat up with a low groan.  The goon had done damage to his already damaged body.  The cold broth that had been left in the corner and had miraculously not been knocked over in the scuffle would be his only sustenance for quite some time.  He was sure after the stunt he had just pulled it was unlikely they'd come back into the cell for any reason other than hurting him further.  John crawled over to the fallen pencil and smiled to himself in triumph. They wouldn't be able to deny him a last hand hold on sanity.   

He searched his pockets for something he could write on.  In his pocket was a Chinese food menu, his only source of paper.  He silently praised the higher power that made him never empty his jeans pockets, even to do the wash.  The paper was fuzzy around the edges from its journey and creased crookedly since he'd folded it up and shoved it in his pocket fast when Magneto called.  A weak attempt at a smirk crossed John's face.  He'd never gotten around to getting that General Tso's chicken.  It was Rogue's favorite and he'd never tried it.  This menu had General Tso's chicken circled because he was finally going to order it.

He was prepared.  They might be able to destroy his body, but he was going to die with his right mind.  Needing strength for his plan he crawled to the bowl and with great restraint, drank the cold, salty broth slowly.  He set down the empty bowl and picked up his pencil.  

He hated silence.  It was driving him crazy.  Silence made his mind wander to unhappy places, the times in his life, years ago, when the silence was a warning that curses, threats and violence were imminent.  He desperately needed to break the silence, to distract his mind.  Writing was something he had done a lot as a kid.  It was a quiet solitary activity, sometimes just being quiet and out of sight could spare you a beating.  Writing was also a way to get stuff out.  He'd needed to do that a lot growing up.  

So, brandishing his dilapidated writing tool he attacked the rumpled, folded menu and wrote.

_Dear Marie,_

_            You're no doubt wondering why I'm writing you a letter.  Sure we were friends, but friends come and go, I left you all and joined the enemy.  But Marie, you're not a friend I could just let go.  I'm writing to you because I'm dying.  They have me locked in this little cell, it's dark, I'm so thirsty, and I'm too dizzy to stand.  But, worse than these pains is the silence.  Alone in the quiet with my thoughts they plague me more than any physical wound or ailment.  I am writing to you because I need to make peace with this world before I enter the next.  I've never let you know just how important you were to me; how important you still are.  Marie, the friendship we had was one of the closest I've ever experienced.  Our fun times, the talks we shared late at night, sitting in the game room after everyone was in bed, you let me be just how I wanted and never looked down on me or treated me like a child.  I've kept my feelings for you secret.  I would never want to hurt Bobby, another important friend, but as I'll be dead by the time your eyes follow these words I think I can be honest._

_I care about you more deeply then I've let you know.  I'd have waited for you.  I'd have found a way around your powers.  A creative mind is an amazing tool against any problem.  They're a part of you so I even love the gift you hate.  But I never acted on these feelings.  The reasons for my secrecy are complex.  I fear giving them will only make me seem like a coward giving excuses.  Still, even though my vision has gone blurry, I can see I am dying and will be cold and gone by the time you read this. So, there is no reason to fear the repercussions of my declaration.  I stepped away, hid my true feelings for you.  _

_The relationships in my life had never been successful.  My true parents weren't good for me, the families after them really just temporary acquaintances.  My friendships with you and Bobby were the only proof I was even capable of caring for people and having them care for me.  I couldn't risk the friendships by sharing how special you make me feel Marie.  I couldn't tell you about the feelings that just being near you invoked in me. _

_ I love you Marie.  I've never said that to anyone in my life. But I mean it, what I feel for you must be love because it is wonderful, exquisite, and beautiful.  I can't imagine anything better than the way I feel when I see your smile, when your shoulder brushed against mine as we walked down the hall, when you shared your excitement over your latest training success.  You were a bright spot in my life while I was at the institute and have remained one even now that we are far apart and on different sides of a war._

_I don't begrudge Bobby for acting when I was tentative.  While I was being cautious he made his decision to act.  I did nothing to challenge him and even now hope he is making you happy.  As my vision is getting worse and I can actually feel the end of my life within an arm length I suppose I can make my that my dying wish.  I want you to be happy Marie.  Even though it wasn't meant to be that I be the one to bring you that happiness, I sincerely hope you find it.  You deserve to be happy.  I've seen doubt in you that breaks my heart.  Your mutation keeps you separate, never lets you too close to others.  But you are an amazing, beautiful individual that deserves to be happy.  Do whatever makes you happy Marie._

_            You will always have my love,_

_                        John_

            John smiled at his work.  At least he had done something.  His vision was swimming now; it was so hard to focus.  It was getting dark as well; everything was gray and turning black.  He felt his face hit the floor, he'd collapsed.  As he slipped into unconsciousness, expecting to never return, he thought about Marie.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Some Friends Aren't Friends 

Part 2

By: X

X0832001@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am getting no money, I am no threat, please don't sue me.

Today was Day 7 of the Bobby break up.  It had finally happened.  A week ago Marie had told Bobby "I really don't think this is working out the way we thought it would."  This had led to a depressed Bobby on Day 1, moping about with "If it's what she really wants" ever ready on his lips when the usual end-of-relationship condolences were dispensed.  Day 2 had gone very badly when Jubilee told Bobby to go right in to the room she and Rogue shared.  Rogue was just hanging out in there.  Bobby had cracked the door and found Marie re-reading John's letter.  Snatching it away Bobby fumed at what he read.  "That backstabbing jerk!" eventually gave way to "John is so gay" but it was all around a day of anger.  Day 3 had a competitive edge.  Bobby had been heard at breakfast commenting that if Rogue wanted a guy to write her love letters then he would write her a love letter to get her back.  All day he could be found pouring over a notebook; writing and then madly scribbling.  It wasn't until Day 5 of the break up that things finally got perspective and accepted the facts.  He couldn't write Marie a love letter like John.  It wasn't just because John was a better writer. It was because when he sat down and examined his feelings, they weren't the same as John's.  Bobby had thought he'd been in love, but it wasn't the glow that John felt.  Bobby and Rogue were close friends, but that was all they would be.

So the last two days had been spent exploring the idea that they were just friends and teammates.  It was difficult at first, a little awkward.  But, they really fit better in these roles.  Marie was sure with time their friendship would be great, Bobby would find happiness with another, and maybe, just maybe, she would too.  

Right now they were on their way to just outside Vancouver, Canada.  Rogue looked outside of the X-jet's window at the puffy clouds.  The sunlight through them was too bright at first and she had to shield her eyes with her hand for a few moments.  Once that had passed she could appreciate just how pretty and peaceful they seemed.  It was odd to assign a state of mind to clouds, but they did seem peaceful.  

            The mission they had undertaken wouldn't be peaceful, that much was sure.  A branch of the Friends of Humanity, an anti-mutant hate group was terrorizing mutants in a small Canadian town.  The threats were one thing, but several mutants had gone missing.  She looked around the jet.  Cyclops was flying, and Bobby was spinning in his chair like a little kid.  It was a small mission, if things got out of hand they were to retreat and call in the back up team.  Storm and Wolverine were nearby; they could be at the FoH headquarters in fifteen minutes.

            They landed in a wooded area right next to the house that served as a base of operations for this branch of the Friends of Humanity.  Cyclops led the team to the building.  Peeking through the window nothing looked suspicious.  It looked like a VFW hall or something.  Silently Cyclops pointed to Rogue, then the door.  Understanding she crept up to the front door, rang the bell and ducked behind one of the bushes that flanked the door.  This plan had been worked out in advance, they knew their rolls.  From the side window Iceman and Cyclops watched a man come up from what must be the basement, wiping what looked like blood from his hands onto his dark pants.  

            He opened the door to find no one waiting there.  Iceman suddenly slid across the lawn on a sheet of ice.  He was an excellent distraction.

"I got one!" the human yelled, rushing outside. Rogue slipped inside and stayed out of sight as eight other men rushed past her, the last slamming the door behind him.  Rogue was inside, it was up to Cyclops and Iceman to give her time to find out was going on with this club.  They did this by running the FoH around the yard.  It seemed to be going fine, a wall of ice and occasional optic blast keeping the eight men at bay.  Then someone pulled a gun.  The sound of fired shots filled the air.  Things had gotten more complex.  "Damn" cursed Scott, dodging a bullet.  

            Scott looked next to him and returned his attention to the battle.  Then he did a double take.  "Magneto?" Magneto and Sabertooth were standing next to him on the lawn.  

            "Yes?"

            "What are you doing here?"

            "Young Mr. Allerdyce likes French Toast."  Scott looked at him as if he'd grown a third head.  All of the bullets dropped to the ground.  "Pyro went out for groceries so he could make French Toast 3 days ago." The older man elaborated.  No more words were needed, Magneto wasn't here to fight the X-men, he wanted to get his team member back.  

The FoH fought hard, attacking the mutants they so hated.  Cyclops and iceman worked on non-lethally incapacitating them.  Magneto tired of this quickly.  These angry, nasty little animals were doing who knows what to one of his associates.  This "battle" was a mere formality.  The humans stood no chance against the number of mutants assembled on the lawn.  He glared at the young man on the stairs.  He seemed to be directing the others, leading this fight.  Ear, eyebrow, lip, were all pieced on the left, the metal in the man's face glittered in the sun.  Magneto swung his hand, breaking the "Friend's" neck cleanly with an audible snap.  

            The remaining FoH members whirled to see one of their own drop with a thud to the ground, clearly dead.  There was a roar within the crowd, but most of the men could be seen slinking off, not quite prepared to give their lives to the cause.  The remaining few were easily rounded up and tied up by the superheroes and super villains.  

Rogue looked around the dim house.  The first floor was all one room.  She glanced around quickly assessing the situation.  There was a podium near the front window and folding chairs filled the large room.  "They must hold meetings in here" she mused, approaching the podium.  There was a book on its surface, figuring it might have some information Rogue picked it up.  Suddenly there was a crash as a man charged down the stairs.  She didn't even have time to react.  The FOH member had Rogue in a bear hug.  "Hey, aren't you a cutie.  Shame you're a mutie."

"Yeah, it breaks my heart" she hissed bringing her knee up as hard as she could.  The man stumbled back and fell on the ground, desperately clutching between his legs.  She walked past him and picked up the black book that had been dropped in the scuffle.  She wanted to retch at what it contained.  There were pictures and descriptions of mutants they'd captured and how they'd been "taken care of".  

One of the last entries made her not only sick inside but also furious.  It was John; they had captured John, her John.  They didn't use his name, didn't care to find out who their victim actually was, just "Worthless Fire Bug" and pictures.  But Marie didn't need the entry labeled; she could see clearly it was John.  The pictures made tears well up in her eyes.  They'd done terrible things to him.  He was a wonderful person with a beautiful soul, and they'd cut him, starved him, and beaten him.  She whirled back to the man who had now made it to his feet and was working on straightening up.  She caught him with a shin to the face and when he hit the floor she ground her heel in that sensitive spot.  The man screamed and tears rolled freely down his face.  Rogue saw the wretch before her, knew she caused his miserable predicament, but surprisingly didn't feel bad about what she'd done.  

They kept their prisoners in the basement so she headed for the stairs.  At the top she paused and pulled out her communicator.  "Rogue to Cyclops"

There was a pause then, "Yes Rogue?"

"All clear in here.  But, they have been keeping mutants in the basement.  Mistreating them and holding them in cells.  I'm going to let them out."

"We'll be there soon to help."

"Alright"

Rogue made her way down the stairs and encountered the doors.  There were 5 of them, all in a row.  "Anyone down here?" she called.  A soft whimpering could be heard but she couldn't quite locate where it was coming from.  Taking a deep breath she opened the first door.  It was empty.  The second had an occupant.  It was a girl, about 12 years old, sitting curled up and crying.  Rogue recognized her from the book.  "It's alright" Rogue cooed coming to kneel by the girl.  "We're here to take you away."

"Really?" came the sniffled reply

"You're going to be fine."  She took the girl's hand and led her out of the cell.  Footsteps on the stairs drew her attention.  Bobby and Cyclops appeared from above.

"Good work Rogue" Cyclops congratulated.  Rogue passed the girl off to Bobby.

"There are still 3 more to check out."  She opened the third door and found it empty.  The fourth contained a quiet male body.  She couldn't stop her initial observation that it wasn't John.  Rogue rushed to it and pressed gloved fingers to the neck.  She couldn't feel anything, and gave a pitiful glance towards Cyclops.  She didn't know if there was no pulse or if she was just missing it through the thick fabric of her gloves.   Scott bent down and sadly shook his head.  The young man was dead.

The door opened slowly on the last cell.  It was empty.  "He was in here; they called him 'the worthless firebug'." Rogue whispered near tears.  She had been so determined they would find him.  Her optimistic spirit sure that when she opened the cell door he'd be sitting against the wall, a little worse for wear but defiantly OK.  She spotted the menu, lying on the floor, ignored in whatever activity had gone on in this cell recently.  She knelt down and picked it up.  She felt her heart stop, it wan another letter from John.  This had been his cell.  There was blood staining the paper, and she knew it was his. She read his handiwork and tears slipped from her eyes.  It was beautiful. _You will always have my love, John, seeing the words filled her with thick emotions._

God, Was he really dead?  Were they torturing him?  They'd done it before, it was in the book.  It was a hollow aching feeling in her stomach. But he could already be dead. His letter said he was expecting it, that he was so close he could feel death.  Tears continued to roll down her cheeks.  Maybe Magneto had rescued him. The thought struck her suddenly and she did her best to hold on to that idea.  It gave enough comfort for her to at least stand up again.  She needed to get away from this basement of horrors.  In a fog she headed up the stairs.  She didn't say anything and didn't look at the others.  She couldn't, she couldn't explain that John meant so much more to her than they knew.  She couldn't explain how the idea of him dying, alone, miserable made her want to die.

Bobby followed the shadow of Rogue making her way up the stairs carrying the little girl, who had a clear death grip on his neck.  It was like not finding John had stolen some part of Marie.  She was like a zombie.  He could kind of understand.  He'd read John's letter to her.  If she felt about him the way he felt about her it was like she'd lost a part of herself.  They belonged together, but circumstances took every opportunity to rip them apart.  He looked at the girl in his arms. She had arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist.  She was about 6 or 7 years younger than him, not that much shorter than him but rail thin so she wasn't hard to carry.  But her grip was tight and she looked at him with the eyes of a young child.  

"Are you Okay honey?  Everything's going to be fine now."

"Yeah…yeah, just…I don't wanna be alone for a while.  They…they…they…then they just leave you for…for...for so long." 

"It's Ok now, I won't leave you alone.  I'm Bobby."

"Samantha" She rested her head against him.  Bobby reminded her of her big brother.  "Will I get to go home?"

"You sure will.  Do you remember where they are?"  She nodded.

"Then I'll take you there."  He turned to Scott.  "Is that alright?  Can I take her home?  He parents are probably worried about her."  

Scott flipped through the pages of the horrible book Marie had found.  Locating Samantha by picture on the page labeled "Glowing Freak".  Apparently she emitted light from her hands.  The bastards had picked her up walking home from school just two days ago.

            "Yeah, you do that Bobby; I'll meet you back at the jet."

            Scott watched Bobby head up the stairs.  He was taking all this misery much better than Marie.  Rogue was more sensitive than her boyfriend.  Well, ex-boyfriend, news traveled fast in the mansion.  She seemed like she was in shock.  That surprised the X-men leader. Rogue had seen plenty, even before she became a member of the team.  So it surprised him that she was so upset by these Friends of Humanity.  She'd really broken down in that last cell, with the paper.  It didn't make sense but since she'd taken the paper with her he didn't know what it had said.  

            Looking around at the emptiness he finally remembered that they hadn't found Pyro.  After realizing that he realized he'd lost track of Magneto and Sabertooth quite some time ago.  They hadn't helped move the FoH inside, they hadn't come down here with them, they'd just disappeared towards the end of the fight.  So there were three dangerous members of the Brotherhood of Mutants unaccounted for.  The Brotherhood hated humans.  They were unaccounted for in a place with incapacitated members of the Friends of Humanity.  The FoH were a mutant hate group.  Scott tore up the stairs to where they had left the tied up humans, waiting for the proper authorities to pick them up.  Sure the group was awful and Cyclops had no love for the mutant haters.  But, they deserved to be locked away in prison, punished by the justice system.  Being torn apart by Sabertooth or burnt alive by Pyro wasn't what they needed.  

            They'd put the remaining FoH in the folding chairs, tied up.  Even those who were unconscious had been tied up.  It had taken a little while, they were just finishing when Rogue had called. When Cyclops arrived he found them right where they should be, not any worse for wear than they were when he saw them after the battle.  There were nine of them, cursing and spitting at him like beasts, but the Brotherhood hadn't killed anymore of them.  It made him wonder what they were up to.  Could Magneto have been honest?  Did he just come; claim whatever was left of Pyro, and leave?  Peacefully?  Scott remembered the pierced fellow; well mostly peacefully.  Still ignoring the curses and yelling by the mutant haters he headed back to the jet.  It was a small town, taking Samantha home wouldn't take too long.  Iceman was probably waiting by the jet.

            Cyclops was correct; Bobby was leaning against the side of the jet while Rogue sat in the grass.  It was defiantly time to get the jet back to New York.  They were hidden well in this overgrown area but Cyclops didn't want to upset the neighboring community any more than they already had with their fight.  The landing sight was very close to the house, Cyclops jogged towards his companions.  But as he neared them, Rogue took off.

            Marie was sitting quietly with her thoughts, knees up under her chin and leaning against the X-jet.  The she saw something that made her heart stop.  She couldn't draw in a breath.  Sabertooth and Magneto were getting into a dark car.  Something was slung over Sabertooth's shoulder.  Marie squinted.  It was John!  He looked dead.  He was motionless, and even from a distance she could tell, frighteningly pale.  She took off in a run towards them.  She had to know for sure.

            "Rogue" scolded Scott as he made a grab for her. "Stop, where are you going?" She easily pulled away and continued across the lawn.  Scott looked at the next closest person for insight.  That person happened to be Bobby.  The young man shook his head.  

            "She's got some stuff to work out with John." He explained.

            "Pyro?"

            "Yeah, we should just give her a few minutes."

            She wanted to say so much, ask so many questions.  But when she reached Magneto and Sabertooth she couldn't speak.  They were loading John into the backseat.  He was badly bruised, dried blood flaked from his face and the glimpse she caught of his arm was horrendous.  "Is he…" was all she could manage, tears already slipping from her eyes.  Magneto smiled warmly at the crying girl.

            "He's alive child.  The humans were cruel, but Pyro will survive."  Relief filled Marie in a rush.  

Looking around the car she spotted a little notebook and pen.  She scribbled furiously.  

            _John,_

_            I know what I am writing you won't be as eloquent and moving as the letters you have written me.  Your words are beautiful; they make me feel so special.  There is so much I want you to know, but I must be fast here. I don't think Magneto and Sabertooth are willing to wait for me to find the right words for how you make me feel.  But, you should know that I feel the same way for you as you do for me._

_            I love you John Allerdyce._

_                        Yours,_

_                        Marie_

            She tore the little page from the book.  "Can you give this to him?"  Her eyes pleaded with the older man.  It wasn't the fear he sometimes saw in her, fear from what happened on Liberty Island.  This was a fear her request would be denied, that her friend would never know what she'd written for him.  Magneto wouldn't deny a fellow mutant something this simple.  He smiled.

            "Yes my dear. When he recovers enough I'll give him your message."

            She leaned into the car and kissed John's forehead softly.  Another loose tear rolled down her cheek. "Thank you Magneto."  Then she turned and jogged back to the X-jet.

The End


End file.
